Tag Archives: culture

I’ve never been particularly attached to the clothes I wear. I have always happily worn different outfits to fit the social situation required — unlike others, what I wear does not define me or so I thought…

I wore a hijab for the first time as a Peace Corps volunteer in The Islamic Republic of Mauritania, a country three times the size of New Mexico in western Africa. It’s a sunny, hot, and dusty place that is almost entirely covered in sand. Almost all of the women in the town where I lived wore clothing that covered their entire body – only exposing their face, feet, and hands. Wearing a hijab is as much for practical reasons as it is for religious and cultural reasons; it offers protection from the sun and sand. In order to be respectful and culturally appropriate, I wore an ankle-length skirt, a short-sleeved blouse, and a headscarf, which left only my face exposed – shining white out of the center of a colorful frame. I embraced this outfit, even in the heat, because it was exciting and new and I could feel that I was more accepted in my community as a result of my efforts.

About four months into my two year stint as a volunteer, I realized that I was feeling rather strange and couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was troubling me. I thought about my daily interactions, the very friendly exchanges I had with Mauritanians. Then it hit me—I didn’t have any real friends. As an extrovert, I had never struggled to make friends. As I thought more about why, I realized that I had lost my sense of self, my past, my individuality.

In my efforts to be culturally appropriate – wearing a hijab and politely interacting with people – I had suppressed my own extroverted, American self. I realized it’s hard, and almost impossible, to make connections with people when you aren’t revealing your true personality, expressing your opinions and being you. It was in that moment, that I rediscovered Alison within Mauritania. I opened myself up to women in the community, communicating my opinions, interacting with them from this new perspective, all the while still wearing a hijab and my conservative clothing, and almost immediately, I had friends. Not surface friendships, but real friends.

In The Convert, we watch as two cultures, two religious perspectives compete for the souls of the characters. To me, Jekesai’s struggle is very real — even though my own personal struggle had much less at stake. Discovering who you are within a different cultural framework and trying to reconcile your own culture and the new culture is a challenge faced by all Peace Corps volunteers.

As a recruiter for Peace Corps, I try to set realistic expectations for potential volunteers, telling my personal story, and encouraging them to watch movies and plays that depict what it takes to live in a culture that is not your own. The Convert gives Americans a glimpse of what it might be like to find cultural balance while they are serving as Peace Corps volunteers.

After death, the spirit is wandering, perhaps waiting and listening for a call to come home. When our tears have been cleansed by a season of rain and rebirth we prepare to welcome home the spirit of our loved one.

For the Shona people family duties do not end when we die. As ancestors, we must provide protection, help resolve issues, and avenge our deaths if they were unjust. Leaving the physical body allows the spirit to hear and see; moreover, our deceased are in a good position to give us guidance and protection. In order to fulfill these duties, we must be present with our families. So an important part of our culture is the ceremony to bring home the spirits of our dead. The ceremony has to take place after a rainy season. If there is a drought the ceremony is delayed. There is also a practical reason for waiting for the rain. The soil over the rain may be displaced or sink in after the first heavy rain so the grave must weather a full rainy season before the tombstone or stone covering can be put permanently on the grave.

There are no charms, ill wishes or witches fiercer than a mother’s love. So she is the one seated, all that is needed to ensure the spirit’s safe return. Before birth, our mothers wait, holding us safe in their wombs. We begin this ceremony, imitating life, with a woman, once again, guarding a gourd. For seven days our mothers patiently sit and wait for the ceremonial beer to brew.

If the mother of the deceased is alive, she sits with the gourds or drums of beer for the week or two preceding the ceremony in a small hut built solely for this purpose. If the mother is not present a post-menopausal maternal aunt or cousin assumes this role.

On the seventh night we, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, children, nieces, and nephews call the spirit home through clapping, drumming, playing of the mbira, and dancing to bring our loved one back home, awakening the night with music played for spirit ears.

Sometimes a cow is slaughtered the night before in honor of the dead and to provide meat for all who are gathered.

The brothers sing, “Our wives have risen with the sun to clear your grave. We have compensated them with beer and money and now all is as it should be your way is also clear. We call on our great aunts and grandfathers to guide you home. If there was anger between us we will kill a goat in the name of that anger, and share it in peace. Come and drink with us. All will be as it should be now that you are home.”

After the grave is cleared of all debris by women who have married into the family, gourds of beer are brought to the grave by the man’s closest friend and a nephew. They may slaughter a goat or some chickens on the grave as well. The beer is shared by the living and what is left is poured over the grave. One gourd of beer is saved solely for the deceased. After pouring the beer on the grave, the gourds and smashed and the shards are left on the grave and the spirit is home.

“We have shared your earthly goods and your wife has leapt over your weapons and proved herself honorable. To her chosen one she will bring water. All is as it should be; we now wait to hear who will carry your voice.”

At the end of the ceremony the possessions of the deceased, including land and clothing, are shared amongst his family members. His wife is supposed to stay celibate until this ceremony is complete and she jumps over her late husband’s knobkerrie or ax to prove that she has nothing to hide. The widow also decides at that point if she wants to marry one of her husband’s brothers. She signifies her choice by placing a bowl of water in front of one of the brothers. If she does not wish to re-marry into the family she can place the bowl in front of her own son, or her husband’s sister. The deceased’s oldest son may at this point be given his father’s name as the head of the family and may also become his svikiro (spirit medium).